


The Beginning of a Happy Ending

by Lyonface



Series: Prompt Fills and Flash Fiction [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cheers!AU, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-26 12:10:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9895916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyonface/pseuds/Lyonface
Summary: Cullen deals with an irritating patron until help arrives.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cullenrutherford](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cullenrutherford/gifts).



> I wrote this for a little writing jam my friends and I had a few months ago and, though it's a gift to fenedhislasa on Tumblr, we agreed that spreading this great ship and fleshing out this AU was of the utmost importance.

                The stars flickering against the back of his eyelids has doing absolutely nothing to drown out the sounds in the bar around him, much less the embarrassment that sat to his right. Even if the pain of pressing against his eyes were a good momentary distraction, Cullen knew that the only place that this interaction was going to go was further and further south.

                “Why do your friends call you their ‘Commander?’ ”

                His growing desire to tell the woman off continued to lose against his good manners, even after he was sure the sour smell of ale and cigarettes was enough to cloud his head into three different stages of intoxication. It would have been a great excuse for being harsh, but the idea of engaging with her at all utterly drained him. He turned towards the woman’s voice, a pathetic attempt at sounding sultry behind a day’s worth of emphysema-induced coughing, he answered, “While some of us were--.”

                “Oh! I just _love_ a man in uniform!” she cooed, interrupting him as she leaned over and wrapped her thin arms through his own, pulling it from its place against the bar.  He turned his eyes away from her bouncing…everything, and once again attempted to make desperate, pleading eye contact with the barkeep.

                When he finally did, as the young man swept the dark curls out of his face, all he did was offer him a pitying smirk before being called over to the register at the other end of the bar.

                Cullen narrowed his honey-colored eyes at the sting of betrayal before burying them back behind the palm of his hand.

                “You’re _such_ a handsome man, Cullen,” the woman continued, entirely unperturbed by the countenance of her attempted acquaintance, “I’m told all the time that I should marry a handsome man. I shouldn’t waste _these_ genes on just anyone.”

                Her grip tightened around his bicep and for the love of the Maker he couldn’t understand why she didn’t have someone already to shove around. She was certainly persistent enough, and remarkably difficult to ignore, no doubt from practice. If she had conned some poor man by now he’d be spared this and left to wait for his company in peace.

                “That settles it! Are you listening?” she chirped in his ear, drawing him back from the blissful darkness of his palm to acknowledge her with a far more patient hum than he should be capable of making.

                “We should get married!”

                That got his attention. He spun his head around, fixing her wide, gap-toothed grin with an expression of horror and indignation.

                “I beg your pardon?” he asked her. “I don’t know what you think but I--!”

                She giggled, a strange nasally noise. “Who even talks like that?” she said, pulling his arm back against her even as he struggled to dislodge himself with as much dignity to both parties as possible, despite dignity being long gone from this conversation. “You’re just so _adorable_! I could—could, oh I could gobble you up!”

                “I’m afraid you will have to wait in line.”

                Both heads swung around to fix on the source of that line. An elven man stood behind Cullen, his brown suit jacket draped over one arm, his posture oozing confidence with an edge of vexation.

                Finally feeling her hold give enough to wrench free, Cullen took the opportunity to withdraw his strangled limb, moving slightly closer to his rescue.

                “What?” she demanded, somehow finding the self-assurance to act offended.

                He fixed her with a cold, hard look, “Ser Rutherford has earned that title from his friends. Surely that should suggest a certain level of respect?”

                Her body shrunk away from the both of them, the gravity of the situation finally hitting her, and possibly the shame of her actions, or at least Cullen hoped for future patrons that may have to suffer such.

                He just sighed, tapping twice against the bar and signaling toward his companion without even looking to see if the bartender had seen him.

                “Now,” the smooth voice from behind him began, “if you wouldn’t mind.”

                After a second to process the command thinly veiled as a suggestion, she jolted off the bar stool, stumbling onto her pencil point stilettos with a small amount of stumbling. Too late, she huffed loudly, arching her back to accentuate her figure as she turned her nose in the air, feigning offence even as she retreated.

                When he heard him sit down, Cullen glanced back at his companion as he rolled up the sleeves of his sweater. “Thank you, Solas.”

                “I apologize for being late,” he replied, glancing up as the bartender swung by, depositing a Dark and Stormy in front of the new patron as he made his way to turn the corner towards the area of the bar nearest the pool tables, occupied by a completely different kind of crowd. “It is most unlike you to put up with such behavior.”

                He sighed at that, rubbing at the back of his neck, coffee in hand, “It seems I couldn’t find it in me to force her away.”

                Solas came down from the first sip of his drink, shooting him a teasing smirk, “I did not anticipate that you would miss women fawning over you, Cullen.”

                He scoffed, “Maker! No, don’t be ridiculous.” He lifted the coffee mug to his lips, the silver band secure around his finger catching in the light. “It never seems to deter them. A shame, really.”

                Solas hummed, his knee brushing against Cullen’s thigh as he shifted to perch his feet against the shelf hovering above the bottom of the bar. “It has not been all that long,” he pointed out, putting his elbow against the lacquer surface in front of them, resting his chin in the curve of his hand. His thumb idly ran along the matching band of his own.

                Keeping that proud curve of a smirk from his face, the one that accentuated the scar over his lip, was a bit more difficult than he thought it might have been by now. They’d waited long enough, after all. But, maybe it was the wait that made even small moments like this a treasure.

                “I suppose it hasn’t,” he murmured.


End file.
